


Love Me So Good

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Established Relationship, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Self-Acceptance, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:51:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: Magnus had taken Alec apart and put him back together, in the process airing his insecurity, vulnerability, uncertainty, and making him feel loved and cherished. Magnus made Alec feel whole, unbroken-- or better yet, broken but put back together by the most loving hands that touched each and every piece of him with such breathtaking reverence and awe that left him hopeless to do anything but surrender.Alec fears his soldier's body isn't good enough for Magnus. Magnus shows him the truth.





	Love Me So Good

Alec releases a shuddering breath, Magnus’s hands leaving trails of warmth. He never gets used to it. Alec’s been trained since infancy to be a soldier-- hard, cold, unforgiving-- but Magnus has laid waste to that with a thoroughness that’s as surprising as it is complete.

Oh, Alec can still be a hardass, sometimes enjoys making his subordinates sweat a little when they’ve fucked a mission up or disobeyed orders.

But, when he’s like this, boneless and gasping under his boyfriend, Alec thinks it a shame that he didn’t discover how wonderful it could be to yield a little sooner.

That is, when he can think at all.

Magnus loves him, every inch, and it never gets old, never stops being something that fills Alec with awe and gratitude. Alec is very aware that as a shadowhunter, as the heir of the Lightwood name, his body is a battlefield in its own right.

The summer Alec shot up nine inches, when his very bones ached at his ever increasing height, he grew stretch marks. His lower back, thighs, even his arms had developed those tiny little lightning bolts. For the most part, he’d never noticed or cared-- not even when two years later, he’d filled out and the new muscle had added even more. They were faint white lines that meant nothing to him-- just reminders that he now fit the ideal physique of a shadowhunter: lean, muscular, solid.

That changed a little when he met Magnus. While he didn’t _worry_ , he was concerned that the little marks marring his body would turn Magnus off-- Magnus who was perfection, with miles of golden skin without a blemish.

He really should have known better.

Magnus had never commented on the stretch marks, those little lines that were faded but still noticeable-- especially to someone mapping out his body with their lips.

Once, though, they’d been in bed enjoying a lazy Sunday. Alec had been on his stomach, head pillowed on folded arms and Magnus had been leaning over his back, finger drawing featherlight touches all over. Magnus had been humming some song that sounded like a lifetime away and it’d taken Alec a moment to realize that Magnus had moved from tracing random shapes to following those indistinct markings.

He’d tensed a little, unsure. Magnus noticed, stilling his hand for a beat before continuing on as before.

 _Beautiful_ , he’d whispered, reverent, then bent down and traced those same lines with his lips, that sinful mouth that made Alec fall even deeper, warmth filling his bones, making him drowsy and content. He’d fallen asleep that afternoon with Magnus touching him, such care and love in every move.

If his stretch marks were a minor concern, though, things certainly became more worrying when it came to his long healed wounds-- demon claws, ichor burns, training injuries had all left his skin riddled with scars that no amount of iratzes could erase. When he’d first started letting Magnus in, he’d worried that his body would be a reminder of everything he used to be, everything he was supposed to be-- a terrifying soldier, a merciless weapon. 

Alec couldn’t get enough of Magnus. His body, supple and strong, was intoxicating. Alec could-- and had-- spent hours worshipping Magnus’s body. The slender fingers, the dizzying solidity of his chest, the acres of skin laid out before him like the most divine of feasts. 

But when it came to Alec, he feared that he couldn’t match Magnus’s perfection. While graceful and steady, he was too used to hunching and fading into the background.

Magnus shocked him, again, when he’d spent one memorable night worshipping Alec in turn. He’d asked how he’d earned each scar, kissing each mark softly, and Alec had done his best to keep his brain from turning into mush, answering his love with increasing difficulty until Magnus had chuckled darkly and murmured, _we’ll continue this conversation later, darling. Right now I have better things to do_. He’d proceeded to destroy Alec, his defenses, until he’d been a moaning mess with sweat-slick skin and _Magnus_ at the tip of his tongue, the only anchor in a sea of feeling.

A continuing battle for Alec had been his hands. Strong, capable palms with long, dexterous fingers. Great archer’s hands that were as comfortable with a blade as they were a bow. Blunt nails, short and plain, rough palms that showed more wear than most people twice his age, with the callouses to match.

Capable and deadly, used to harsh treatment and unforgiving action.

Alec often got caught staring at Magnus’s hands. They were stunning, always so neatly painted and manicured. Watching those hands with ethereal blue or vibrant red always made his mouth go dry. Magnus’s hands were powerful but handled Alec with such care that he’d ruined him for anyone else.

It’d been months of Alec worrying that his hands were too rough, too used, not good enough to touch Magnus with a grip that was always too much-- before Magnus had nipped it in the bud, once and for all.

 _Alexander_ , he’d whispered. _Touch me_.

Gaining confidence and losing his ability to think coherently, Alec had given in. He’d grabbed Magnus’s hips in a punishing grip as their cocks moved against each other in a rhythm that made them both cry out in pleasure, minds blank and breathing harsh.

 _Yes, fuck, darling, I love your hands_.

Alec had stilled and Magnus’s eyes had opened, those glowing cat eyes filled with a swirling mix of lust and love.

He’d taken Alec’s unsure expression and his gaze had softened as he pulled Alec even more into his hold.

 _Warrior’s hands, capable of such destruction but also of so much gentleness_ , he’d whispered, holding Alec’s gaze. He’d brought them up to his mouth and kissed them, delicately, sweetly. _I love when you grab me, when you hold me and don’t let go. They’re imperfect, darling, but the way you use them makes them beautiful_.

 _I love you, pretty boy_.

Magnus had taken Alec apart and put him back together, in the process airing his insecurity, vulnerability, uncertainty, and making him feel loved and cherished. Magnus made Alec feel whole, unbroken-- or better yet, broken but put together by the most loving hands that touched each and every piece of him with such breathtaking reverence and awe that left him hopeless to do anything but surrender.

Alec gave himself to Magnus, willingly. Eagerly. 

Magnus never let him falter, was always there to catch him.

Alec had grown from that cold soldier to loving boyfriend and he wouldn’t change a thing. He likes being able to bring his walls down with Magnus. He likes when Magnus looks at him, _into_ him, and sees something to love.

He likes feeling beautiful and coveted and possessed by the most stunning man he’s ever met.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr @carmenlire


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